Silently Screaming
by TheWammy'sHouseReject
Summary: "You idiot! You have to stop- you're killing yourself! Moron...America...please, stop...I'm sorry..." **US/UK, ANGST, HARD YAOI**
1. Chapter 1

**PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU BEGIN!**

I approach the subject of Bulimic!America with a great deal of caution. As a person who's struggled with bulimia for quite a while now, I decided I could do an accurate portrayal of the illness. But beyond that- America's thoughts and feelings are largely based on my own experience with certain family members. Both the disorder and its side effects shall be described in rather graphic detail later on, and are not for the fainthearted. That being said, this will also contain Yaoi and sexual encounters of the US/UK sort. **IF YOU FIND ANY OF THE ABOVE UNCOMFORTABLE OR OFFENSIVE, please do not read any further. **Also, please do not flame if you don't like _Hetalia _Darkfic. Thanks. for those who wish to continue, please enjoy the ride :D

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><p>Darkfic is read.<p>

It makes you blue.

I don't own Hetalia.

I hate Mary Sue ^^

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><p><em>"Hey fatass."<em>

_"Still eating the junk food, fatso?"_

_"Looks like you put on a couple extra pounds, fatty."_

Why? Why did Britain keep hurting him like that?

Though no physical blows were struck against him, Britain's wickedly sharp tongue did more damage than his fists could have. (His words hurt worse than he realized. Cut deeper than he noticed.)

Dozens upon dozens of empty bags and boxes littered America's houses, torn open in a violent rage, their contents consumed in haste. (All of them America's favorites- doughnuts, hamburgers, and candy- but he ate them so fast he didn't even taste it.) Empty cans of soda covered the coffee table in the living room, aluminum crushed and useless.

The bathroom door was closed and locked, the faucet running to obscure any sound. Still, the muffled sound of gagging and coughing could be heard from inside the bathroom.

America was bent over the toilet, gagging one final time, emptying the last of the contents of his stomach.

(He'd eaten so much that he literally felt sick. It didn't matter- he would have thrown it all up anyway.)

_Britain, why do you do this to me?_

(America had traded one form of bondage for another…this one far more sinister…more dangerous.)

_All I want to do…is be beautiful…for you._

He knows it's a stupid though. To be beautiful…he shouldn't be so vain. He knows that. But he is. He wants to be beautiful.

But more than that, he wants control. He wants to show Britain that it is he, America, who had control over his life. (though he knows, deep down, that this…_thing _inside him is truly the one in control, now. This compulsion had enslaved him.)

_("Why? Why? It's not fair..."_

_"...You know why."_

_If only this had such an easy answer.)_

_Britain..._

_The things you do to me..._

_...I'm going to fall apart._

~oOo~

Cherries are red

Oceans are blue

Please be so kind

As to leave a review :D


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is Britain-centric :P I plan to alternate between the two :P**

Britain's alarm went off with some cheesy, overplayed pop tune. He groaned, rolling over to whack the Snooze bar for ten more minutes of Heaven.

"Britain, get up, sleepyhead!"

Something small, soft, and fuzzy began nudging incessantly at Britain's head. He grumbled, but then conceded and opened his eyes. A blur of mint green became ears, wings, and an adorable face.

"Hn? Flying Mint Bunny? What are you doing here so early?" Britain asked around a yawn.

"I knew if I didn't come, you'd oversleep and miss that big World Conference you've been so worked up about."

Britain's heart plunged into his stomach.

World Conference. That meant America would be there, talking Japan's ear off, begging money off China, making jabs at Britain's culture and cooking, and all around just being _annoying._

Just what he needed today. _Not._

Still, it would be impolite to be late. Britain rolled out of bed, showered, dressed, and grabbed a scone on his way out the door. Flying Mint Bunny trailed after him. At least _that_ was going right.

"Have a good day, Britain," Mint Bunny chirped before flying off.

Britain caught a cab and directed it toward the place they'd be using- this time, a building in London.

The Queen was letting them use some of the rooms in Buckingham Palace.

_~HETALIA~_

In his distress at having to face America, Britain forgot the one person he hated nearly as much,

France.

"Ah, Bonjour, mon ami," he cooed, twirling in a circle.

Britain noticed the enormous centerpiece in the middle of the conference table, full of white and red roses.

"How do you like my flower arrangement?" France asked, a little _too _eagerly. "I set it up just an hour ago, isn't it tres bien?"

Whether France was trying to be friendly, or simply wanted to annoy Britain, he'd had quite enough. His paper-thin patience broke.

"Can it, Frog," he growled, taking his seat and pouting in a rather un-gentlemanly fashion.

"Oh, so cruel," France lamented, but Britain was soon forgotten as he went back to obsessing over his bouquet.

In about ten minutes, the others started trickling in.

Germany, punctual and immaculate as usual, but with a half-conscious Italy draped over his shoulders, whining about still being tired. Prussia came a minute or so later, gray hair a wreck and his bird on his shoulder. They took seats toward the end of the Table, with Germany at the head.

The Asian countries all arrived at the same time- Japan trailing behind Vietnam and Thailand, Taiwan and Hong Kong chatting in up, and China trying to pry Korea off him. Just a normal day for them. They took their seats along the left side of the table.

Greece was one of the last to arrive in his rumpled suit, his hair disheveled- it was plain to see that he didn't care. Japan jumped up, giving an awkward half-bow before Greece simply walked over and hugged him before taking the seat Japan saved for him.

Turkey flipped him off from across the room. Greece pretended not to see it.

Britain sighed. Maybe he wasn't comi-

"Mista America, are you aright? You are rooking very pare."

He just _had _to think it, didn't he?

"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little tired, is all."

America _did _look paler than usual- eerily so.

Normally, America had this wonderful, healthy glow about hi, with suntanned skin and glossy hair, giving off this aura of 'I feel good.' Today, though, he looked washed-out. Almost sickly.

And Britain was about to slap himself for caring.

(America's economy was bad, wasn't it? He must have just caught a cold, that's all.)

"Mister America!" Lithuania called, grinning and waving. "I saved you a seat, Mister America!"

(Britain almost snorted at the idiots who called America "mister."

Germany stood and took control of the meeting (and that made sense, otherwise they'd get nothing done.)

"You all know ze rules," he barked, calling the room to attention. "Eight minutes each for speeches, raise your hand, no talking out of turn, and _no _going over ze time limit."

A hand went up.

"Germany recognizes ze country of Spain!"

Spain stood and began reading off his queue cards. Something or other, rather boring. Britain found himself struggling to stay awake.

America didn't seem to have any problems staying alert. Despite his previous claim of being tired, he was just as loud and talkative as ever, even now at seven in the morning- even taking into account the jetlag he must've gotten on the flight there. What the hell kind of drugs was he _on? _Regular coffee or Red Bull couldn't explain his limitless reserves of energy.

(And Britain slapped himself again for envying America.)

Still, though, despite that hyperactivity, America _did _look pale.

When they took a break for lunch, Britain approached America, trying to act aloof and nonchalant, which was hard around _him._

"America, what's wrong with you? You're white as a ghost."

America jerked out of his seat, flying about a foot into the air.

"A _ghost? _I'm a ghost? Oh God, I don't wanna be a ghost, I don't wanna be dead I don't wanna-"

"Shut up. I just said you were white as a ghost, not that you _were _one. Damn, were you _born _this stupid?"

"Seems like you should know, Britain. Aren't you the one that raised me? Oh, right- you kept running off and leaving me alone, so I guess you _wouldn't _know."

Ouch. Sometimes America's remarks cut deeper than intended.

Britain stormed off, Letting America have the last word.

America couldn't stop the guilt rising up in his throat. He smiles just a bit, a bitter smile full of acid.

"I'm an awful person, aren't I?" He mumbles to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

GerIta yaoi fluff in this chappie : Consider yourself warned :P

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><p>America hummed The Star Spangled Banner to himself as he walked to his car, spinning his keychain around on his finger. He couldn't wait to crash at his kickass hotel on the other side of the city.<p>

Britain took a deep breath.

_You followed him out to his car. Say something to him, or you'll just look like a creep and a stalker._

"Hey, America!" Britain calls, running the short distance to catch up.

America turned around, breaking into a broad grin.

"Hey! Wazzup, British?"

_Don't lose your temper. He's just a stupid kid. _Don't lose your temper. He's just a stupid kid. _Don't lose your temper. He's just a stupid kid.___

"I really wish you couldn't call me that," Britain said, as opposed to 'My name is Britain, you bloody git!' An improvement, as far as he was concerned.

"Sorry, dude. Hey, you wanna come over and play some video games? I just got a kickass new one from Japan the other day!"

(Please just say yes, America screams in his mind. Please, say yes.)

"No thanks," Britain says. "I have some more important things to do. Maybe some other time."

"Oh. Okay." America hides his crushed expression well. "I didn't wanna spend time with a lame-o like you anyway." (He didn't really mean to say that.)

"You ungrateful little- after all I did for you-"

"You ditched me and left me to raise myself all alone," America pointed out. "But whatever. Later dude." Britain clenches his hands into fists and growls.

Why did I ever want to talk to him in the first place? The bloody moron. Is he trying to push me away?

"Later, fatass," Britain said, then turned and stormed off.

America shot a dirty look at the back of Britain's head.

What am I doing? He asks himself, putting his hand to his head. I always manage to fuck everything up. I'm an idiot.

"America-san- uh, Mista America!"

Japan waved his arms at America, running toward him. America composes his face into a smile, and turns around.

"Hey, Japan, what's going on?" He asked, maybe a little too brightly. "You want somethin'?"

"Uh, is it aright if I come to your hotel for a few hours?" Japan asked, bowing his head to hide his furious blush.

"Huh? Why?" America's voice betrays his hope.

"Mista Turkey and Mista Greece are fighting again, and I just can't stand it!" Japan said, as close to a yell as he ever got. "I need to get away untir they calm down."

So he doesn't wanna hang out with me. America's smile fell. He just wants to get away from his own problems...

"Sure, Japan," he said, putting his happy face back on. "Hey, we can play that kickass video game you gave me!"

Japan smiled and perked right up.

"Oh, sat would be wonderfur!"

"Hell yeah! C'mon, let's get a cab and get the hell outta here."

America chased down a cab for the both of them. It was a long way back to the hotel, and Japan didn't seem too keen on conversation anymore. Now he would have to think. And whenever he had to think, he ended up thinking about all the ways that he sucked.

These days, it seemed like there was more than one of him- the truth and the lie.

America One was the Real America- the one that never seemed to smile anymore. The one that spent hours locked in the bathroom, retching and crying, wishing he was dead. The one who wanted Britain's love, his attention, and kept wondering why he was such a screwup.

America Two was the Fake America- the one that laughed and grinned and ate without feeling guilty (or so he seemed), and shoved Britain away without meaning to.

Real America wore Fake America like a mask, smiling in public while rotting inside. But when he was at home, the mask fell away, and all he had left was ugliness.

He slumped over and buried his head in his hands, resting his weight on his elbows.

I hate myself.

That thought crossed his mind a lot these days.

He hated himself. He hated Britain. He hated being miserable. He hated being confused.

(But He loved Britain.)

"Mista America, are you sure you're aright?" Japan asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice. "You seem upset."

America raised his head up.

"Hm? Yeah. I'm alright. Just tired."

They went to America's hotel. They played video games. They drank soda and ate candy. Japan stayed until about seven, when an extremely contrite Greece and Turkey showed up at the door, and he decided to leave.

America hated being alone.

He tried playing the video game, but it wasn't any fun by himself. He tried watching TV, but there was nothing good on.

He wound up eating half the supply of junk food he bought when he got to the hotel. He ate until his stomach hurt and his pants felt way too tight. Then he locked the bathroom door- just in case someone would show up.

Bending over the toilet, he shoved his finger down his throat and gagged. Repeating this several more times, he vomited up everything he'd eaten. Then he laid down on his bed and slept until late the next day.

Anything to kill time.

_~Hetalia~_

Britain flipped through channel after channel of mindless drivel, unable to find anything that would ease his soul crushing boredom. He should have taken up America's offer- playing those mindless and violent video games would still be better than this.

Flying Mint Bunny never came back after this morning, and neither did any of his other friends.

Eventually, he nodded off to sleep on the couch, and woke up at three the next morning. He rubbed his bleary eyes and rubbed his stiff neck. His dream was still fresh in his mind.

Britain, will we always be together?"

America is small, round faced, and cute. He snuggles happily in Britain's lap, cherubic and adorable.

"Of course we will," Britain said, patting America's tiny head and smiling.

"Forever and ever?"

"Forever and ever."

"I'm independent now, Britain! Get out of my country and get out of my life!"

"America-"

"You're a liar, Britain! You promised we'd be together! But all you do is run off like I'm not good enough! You don't even care!"

Britain made himself a cup of strong coffee. The dream slowly faded to the back of his mind with the rising sun.

They didn't have the next round of meetings until tomorrow- so he was free to do whatever he wanted.

Maybe he'd ask America to-

No! He didn't want to have to deal with that idiot, with his obnoxious voice, his gorgeous eyes, his beautiful smile-

Shut up! He yells at himself. He'd rather hang around with Russia than America.

No. He wasn't that desperate.

_~Hetalia~_

"Germany! Where are the pasta ingredients?" Italy called from the tiny hotel kitchen.

"Zer are no pasta ingredients, dummkopf," Germany said. "Zis is not home."

"_Ve~_ I wanted to make pasta for you," Italy whined. But there isn't anything here to make pasta with."

"Zer is more to life zan pasta, Italy. Ve can just go und buy food."

"But I wanted to do something nice for you, Germany." Italy frowned and slumped into a chair.

Germany rose from the bed, and walked across the ugly carpet.

"Calm down, little Dummkopf," he said with a teasing smile. "As long as ve are here, I vill be happy no matter vhat."

Italy broke into a big grin.

"Oh, Germany, you're the best ever!" He squealed. "I love you so much!"

He stood on tip toes to kiss Germany on the cheek, but Germany grabbed him and kissed him full on the lips. Germany pulled him into a tight embrace, taking his single curling hair between his fingers. Italy flushed a bright red and moaned.

_"Ve~ _Germany, ahh..."

"I love you too, my little Dummkopf."

They barely made it to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

I've been so freaking sick these last couple weeks that it isn't even funny ._. Silver lining, I finally got the inspiration to update my fanfictions :D  
>Thanks to my beautiful readers and reviewers. I love you all :P *gives cookies to reviewers*<p>

**~Hetalia~**

Japan stretched out and yawned, arching off the hotel bed and then slumping back down. He rolled over to check the blinking red digital clock on the side table.

Eight in the morning. He could be lazy for a while longer.

Greece was still fast asleep, his favorite cat curled under his arm. He slept like the dead, that one- he even slept through the death metal that blasted on the radio yesterday morning to wake them for the big meeting. Japan ended up having to leave without him.

His mind wanders a little bit more.

America had looked so pale- sickly, even. He hadn't really seemed his usual cheerful self either. There was something just a little off about him the whole day. Maybe the others didn't notice it, but Japan had a sixth sense for these kinds of things. Sensing the mood was one of his favorite pastimes, after all.

The cat mewled and wiggled its way out of Greece's hold, jumping away and lazily licking its paw. Japan scratched it behind the ear, basking in the sun coming in through the window. It purred and pressed its head into his palm.

Greece groaned and opened his eyes, shielding them with his arm.

"Japan, what time is it?" He asked blearily.

"Don't worry about it. We don't have any meetings today, so why bother?"

Greece smiled, then rolled over to kiss Japan gently.

"We stayed up pretty late last night, didn't we, Japan?" He asked, poking his partner on the nose. "You sure were loud."

Japan promptly turned bright red.

"G-Greece, don't say shamefur things rike that!"

"Why not? It's just the truth."

"It's shameful!"

Greece leaned in to kiss him again, longer and deeper this time.

"Shameful? All it is is us having a little fun, right? Nothing shameful about it."

He reached under the covers and fingered between Japan's legs. Japan flushes even brighter still.

"Greece, I-"

"What? Don't you want me?" Greece pouted so adorably.

"Greece, I..."

"I want you, Japan. Can I have you?"

He ran his hands down Japan's sides, the planes of pale, smooth skin he had already memorized.

"Japan."

Japan sighed and smiled up at him.

"You're so persistent."

Greece frowned.

"You're distracted. Is something wrong?" He asked. "Did someone piss you off? I'll kick their ass for you, if you want."

Japan briefly thought about America, and how sad he looked. But he decided, whatever it was, that America was tough, and he wouldn't stay sad for long.

"Nothing, nothing."

Greece kissed his neck, practically purring against him.

"I'm glad."

Japan gasped when his wandering hands finally found their goal.

"I'll make you feel really good, Japan. I want to hear you scream like you did last night."

"G-Greece-"

Greece hushed him.

"No more talking. The next time I want you to speak is when I make you come. You understand me?" He said, with a light chuckle. "And make sure you say my name, alright?"

Japan opened his mouth, then closed it again, and started to moan.

~_**Hetalia**_~

America wretched, emptying the last of his stomach contents into the toilet. His mouth tasted like death, and his chest _hurt. _

His rinsed his mouth out and went to lay on the couch.

There was another round of meetings tomorrow, and then he could go home to a whole new debacle.

America hated to admit this, even to himself, but he was starting to hate his own people. Always fighting, always finding different places to stick the blame, always knowing exactly what's wrong and yet doing nothing to stop it.

He watched television, and all he heard was more bad news; this many people hate the president, this person is a liar and went to jail, such and such went crazy and brought a gun to a school. You'd think this would prompt people to cooperate to find a solution, but all it did was cause more problems. Fighting over this or that, neither side willing to change their minds or compromise. People even hated Israel, the tiny young nation he had helped to raise. That was why America was starting to hate them.

He didn't _want _to hate them. He wanted to love them just like he used to, when they were the people who put humanity on the moon. He wanted them to realize that none of them were very different from the other- because all anyone really wants is a shot at life, don't they? All anyone wants is a chance.

_Idealistic nonsense._

At least Tony would be there when he got home. Tony never fought with him over anything worse than who really won a video game.  
>Everything was simple with Tony. Tony didn't make him happy and sad and angry and elated all at the same time. Tony didn't get mad at him for no reason and leave him feeling like he wanted to die. Tony never called him fat or stupid, or hung out with him just because his boyfriends were fighting.<p>

Tony hung out with him because he wanted to. Tony never made fun of him, outside from the usual trash talking during a round of Call of Duty.

America pulled out his cell phone and debating calling him. But knowing Tony, he'd lost his phone again and wouldn't answer.

_I could call Britain..._

He shook his head. Why the hell would Britain want to talk to him, anyway?

He put the cell phone down and started playing Pokemon to distract himself. It was his favorite game; you could be the hero, and nobody hated you for it. That was the best part of video games.

His heart fluttered uncomfortably in his throat, tickling it and nearly making him cough; his stomach won't stop _hurting._

He decides to take a chance and call Britain. _Even if he yells at me...maybe hearing his voice will cheer me up._

It buzzed a couple times.

_Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. I'm busy right now, but if you'll leave a message, I'll get back to you soon._

America hit end, and dialed his number again.

He was wrong. Hearing Britain's voice didn't cheer him up at all.

~_**Hetalia~**_

_Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. I'm busy right now, but if you'll leave a message, I'll get back to you soon._

-_**Beep**_-

_"Britain, I know you're there. Just answer the phone, will ya?"_

Britain stared at America's face on the caller ID. He wasn't going to answer, dammit. He was just going to fucking ignore America. Because if he

answered that phone, then he'd have to talk to America, and then he might accidentally let something slip he didn't mean to.  
>The phone went to voicemail again.<p>

_**Beep**_

_"Look, Britain, if you don't wanna talk to me, could ya at least get on the phone and say it? I'll leave you alone after that, I promise."_

Britain still didn't answer. He leaned back on the couch.

"Why aren't you talking to him, Britain?"

"Mint Bunny..."

"Are you still mad at him?"

Britain shut off the television and sighed.

"Kind of, yes."

"You know, if I were you, I'd be proud if I raised a nation as strong as America."

"I know, I know. I should be proud, but I...I wanted him to stay with me."

He draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

"...I wanted us to get stronger together..."

Flying Mint Bunny snuggled up to Britain's side, fluffy and warm. Britain scratched him behind the ear absentmindedly.

"I'll sleep here tonight, if you want, Britain," Mint Bunny said. "You look like you need the company."

Britain's heart lifted.

"You're my best friend, Flying Mint Bunny."


End file.
